


the missing piece of me is you

by chokedme



Category: IT (2017)
Genre: AU, M/M, Reddie, Richie x Eddie, SO SORRY, ben x beverly, honestly i cried, im sorry, my babies grew up together tho, no pennywise!!, sad af
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-28
Updated: 2018-04-28
Packaged: 2019-04-23 20:06:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14339958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chokedme/pseuds/chokedme
Summary: three times eddie says i hate youand the one time he means it au





	the missing piece of me is you

**Author's Note:**

> i'm sorry in advance

  
  


three times eddie tells richie he hates him

and the one time he means it au

 

this was originally going to be a one shot but i want do despertaly for my babies to have an happy ending so, here’s some multi chaptered angsty bullshit.

  
  


**kindergarten, 1999:**

 

Eddie only had one friend. He was thankful for that one friend, he thought one was a lot when it came to friends. One’s all you need. He also thought one was a lot when it came to inhalers. He only needed one, and it was embarrassing to carry around that one anyway. But Richie insisted on carrying one around as well for him, and it was then when Eddie considered Richie to be his first friend, officially. Well, as official as it could be for a five year old.

 

Edward Kaspbrak did not like Richie Tozier. He didn’t know much, it was his first day of kindergarten, and he was as lost as the dickens, as his mother would say. He didn’t know what that meant, but there was something quite hilarious about the word “dickens.” Edward walked into his first day, with his inhaler and Sesame Street lunchbox in hand, excited to finally go to school. They were always talking about it on tv, how fun school was and how learning was good for your brain. So sitting at his cream colored desk connected to the yellow chair at the back of the class, the last thing he expected was to see a boy he thought belonged on tv. Probably hanging out with Oscar the grouch in his trash can. The boy was sitting at the desk next to him, using a chewed up, red pencil to doodle on the clean desk He had his tongue sticking out from between his lips, and a tangled matt of curly dark brown hair that he would occasionally run the eraser of his pencil through. 

 

“Hey, kid! Don’t draw on the desk, it was cleaned for a reason!” The boy looked up at him, and Edward could see he had thick glasses that made his eyes look ten times bigger than they probably were. “I’m drawing stuff that’ll make the desk look cooler! See?” The kid moved his arm, showing Edward a doodle of a what looked to be a spaceship. Edward smiled slightly, the well drawn nature of the doodle surprising him. “That’s actually pretty cool. I’m Edward.” The kid laughed, pushing the large frames up his nose. “I’m Richie. What kind of a name is Edward? That’s weird. I’m gonna call you Eddie.” Edward wrinkled his nose and crossed his arms. “No! I’m Edward, not Eddie!” The boy leaned over and started to write in big loopy letters on Edward’s desk. “Hey! Stop it!” Edward tried to push him away, but Richie already finished, sitting back in his chair with a satisfied look on his face. “Eddie” was scrawled on his desk, branding him forever as “Eddie” instead of “Edward.” Before he could yell at Richie, the teacher appeared in front of the class, clearing her throat. For the rest of class, he was mad, his eyebrows furrowed with disgust at the doodle on his desk. He couldn’t believe this kid has ruined his first day.

  
  


Eddie was so relieved when the bell finally rang, signaling the class to go outside for recess. Much to his displeasure, Richie followed him like a lost puppy, staying right on heels wherever he went. He was right behind him on the swings, the slide, even the monkey bars. “Richie!” Eddie had enough when the boy tried to go into the bathroom with him. “Can you go away? Why are you even following me?  **I hate you!** ” Eddie shouted, running as fast as he could away from Richie. Unfortunately, even though the inhaler bounced around heavily in his pocket, Eddie seemed to forget the pressing case of asthma he had, and soon enough, was sputtering and panting on the ground, an attack coursing through his lungs. He struggled to reach for the medicine in his pocket, but any slight movement caused a strike of pain through his body. Suddenly, a hand was rummaging around in his coat pocket and he felt the cold spout of his inhaler being pressed to his lips, and he gratefully breathed in the medicine, automatically soothing his lungs. 

 

When he could fully open his eyes again, Richie was leering above him, holding his inhaler in one hand and Eddie’s hand in the other. His face was lined with worry, his brown hair falling into his eyes. “Eds, are you okay? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you have an attack.” Eddie sat up slowly, looking up at Richie fondly. The light formed a halo around his head, illuminating the soft spread of freckles on his face and making his hazel eyes twinkle slightly. “It wasn’t your fault, Richie. I’m sorry I said I hate you. I didn’t mean it.” Richie helped him back to his feet, handing him the blue inhaler. “I know you didn’t. It’s okay.” Richie held out his hand, just his thumb sticking out from his clenched fist. “Friends?” Eddie mimicked the action, nodding along as he said the word. “Friends.”

 

Ever since then, Richie carried around a spare inhaler for Eddie, and doodled cool drawings on his desk before the teacher came in. Eddie had a friend for the first time in his life, and one was all he needed.

  
  


**third grade, richie’s home life**

 

_ ‘I can’t believe after all the shit I’ve done for you, you still do this to me! Show interest, in a boy, Richard? I raised you better than this, I don’t even want to hear mention of a boy ever again, you hear me? Next time, I’ll beat you even harder. So hard you can’t even walk! That seems to be the only way you’ll listen to me!” Richie looked up at his father from his crumpled figure on the floor, bruises throbbing all over his arms and legs, blood slowly dripping out of his nose and coating his lips. The metallic taste was familiar to him. “Do you understand me, Richard?!” His father’s face was unnaturally red, spit flying from his lips at his attempt to get his son to listen to him. He couldn’t raise a faggot. Wentworth Tozier, with a faggot for a son? He’d be ridiculed straight out of the town, shunned by all his buddies. He would rather his son suffer a few temporary injuries then be shunned for something that wasn’t his fault. _

 

_ He brought his palm across Richard’s cheek again, right on top of a previous bruise. “I asked you a question!” The walls of the garage shook, the power of Wentworth’s voice too strong and cruel to stay still. Richie still didn’t answer. His father could stab him right through the guts and he still would never, ever promise to stay away from Eddie Kaspbrak. He was in love, he thinks. People on the tv would always say they were in love with someone they just met, why couldn’t Richie say it? He never could’ve explained what he felt for Eddie at such a young age, but it was there, blossoming in his heart. Eddie was the only thing he thought about as his father’s hand swatted at his body over and over again. He felt as if he could do anything, as long as Eddie was on his mind.  _

  
  


**fifth grade, 2004**

 

Eddie had three friends now. Richie, Stan, and Ben. He met Ben in his fourth grade art class, when no one else wanted to make space for the other boy since he was “too fat to fit.” Eddie didn’t think that was fair, it wasn’t his fault he had a few extra pounds on him. So Eddie scooched over as much as he could at his table, allowing the other boy who looked close to tears to sit next to him. They sat in the same table ever since, Eddie showing him pictures Richie drew for him and Ben showing him how to draw them himself. He met Stan in his PE class, when the curly haired jewish boy also gave a note to sit out for the year. Eddie’s mother had insisted he give the PE teacher a doctor’s note, saying he was far too fragile to participate in those ‘sports endeavors.” Eddie had sadly given the note, upset he would have to sit by himself in the corner and watch the other students have fun. But then Stan had come along, his gold ringlets bouncing with glee as he proudly handed the note to the teacher, and plopped down next to Eddie. “My mom says I have something called OCD, and I don’t have to play and get all dirty. Isn’t that grand?” Eddie giggled at the boy’s vocabulary. He was using big words Eddie didn’t even understand, but he still enjoyed the way he said them. 

 

And of course there was Richie. “Grand” ol’ Riche who was in every single one of his classes, always by his side to pinch his cheeks or poke fun at his fanny pack. Eddie used to be bothered by it, but soon embraced the jokes, similar to the way he embraced the name Richie gave him. Now, he tells everyone to call him Eddie, and winces when anyone calls him by his full name. Richie always came over to his house to read comic books, or play the only racing game Sonia had let Eddie buy. Other games were too violent she said, and settled for a simple car game, instead of the cool shooting game Eddie had pointed out in the store. Sometimes when Richie came over, he brought the the exact game Eddie wanted in his coat, sliding it in the console and playing some music over the sound of death and blood splattering everywhere. Eddie wondered how Richie knew he wanted that game. He didn’t ask, just feeding Richie extra chocolate chip cookies as a thanks. Richie always saved them, bringing them to lunch the next day to eat. He had nothing else to eat. Eddie never said anything, only gave him half of his sandwich and a few chips. This is how their friendship worked. Silent gestures, thankful squeezing of the shoulders or rubbing circles around his knuckles. Eddie liked Richie. He thought Richie was his best friend. 

 

The day after Richie brought a new game to play at his house, Ben was talking about a girl in class. Eddie barely thought about girls, let alone spoke about them. His mother always asked him if he had a girlfriend, and Eddie told her no, all his friends were boys. Then she’d laugh and wink at him. “Alright Eddie bear, just remember you can tell me about her whenever.” Eddie didn’t understand what the big deal was about girls. Ben was talking about one like she was the queen of the world or something. “And she had shiny red hair, how many people do you see with red hair in our class?” Eddie glanced around. “None, I think.” Ben threw his hands up in the air excitedly. “Exactly! Wait, do you like anyone?” Eddie didn’t understand the question. Of course he liked someone, he liked Richie, and Stan, and Ben, and his mom, and his teacher that always smelled like chalk. “Yeah! I do, I like Richie!” Eddie said proudly, figuring he was only supposed to name one person like Ben had done. He likes Richie the most, he thinks. Ben smiled, turning his attention back to his crayons. “I won’t tell anyone you like boys, Eddie. I think it’s cool.” Eddie opened his mouth to say something, but snapped it back shut. He didn’t understand why Ben said he wouldn’t tell anyone, but he didn’t say anything, afraid of sounding dumb.

 

He should’ve said something. A few feet away was the class bully, Henry Bowers, who overheard the conversation and grinned wickedly. His father told him it was wrong to like boys, practically pounded it into him when he found his son kissing the boy from down the street that Saturday morning. If he wasn’t allowed to like boys, then no one could, and he would make sure everyone knew about Eddie’s feelings. 

 

At recess that day, Eddie stuck with Richie at the monkey bars, trying to beat his record. “You got across 5 last time, see if you can get 6 now.” Richie said, hanging upside down from one of the bars. His face was red from hanging upside down, his shirt bunching up at his chest to reveal a pale belly to contrast with his black shirt. Eddie was holding his glasses so they didn’t fall into the dirt below. “You have to move for me to do that, dummy.” Richie smiled cheekily, reaching his arms above him so he could unhook his legs. A crunching on the mulch behind him caused Eddie to turn, and come face to face with a girl in his class. He didn’t know her name, and didn’t care to. “Hey Eddie, how are you and your boyfriend doing?” Richie had both feet planted on the ground now, slinging his arm around Eddie’s shoulders. “Boyfriend? I hope that’s just another word for really good friends, Greta.” Richie said, taking his glasses from Eddie’s hand. “No, boyfriend! Henry said that Eddie told the fat kid in art class that he likes you!” Eddie put his hand on his hips, stepping closer to Greta. “His name is Ben, and I don’t like Richie!” He felt Richie’s arm slide off him. “You don’t?” he said, his voice wavering slightly. Greta crossed her arms and smirked slightly, waiting to see what Eddie said. Eddie didn’t know what to do in this situation. He didn’t want Greta to tell everyone he liked Richie, because he didn’t! Wait, did he? The fact that he questioned himself made him nervous, and before he knew it the words were tumbling out of his mouth. “No! I don’t like him, Greta! In fact,  **I hate him!** ” Eddie stomped away, his words ringing through Richie’s ears. The tears came before he could stop them, and Richie ran in the opposite direction of Eddie, tears fogging his glasses. Greta watched after them, until she concluded that Richie and Eddie definitely liked each other. She ran off to tell Henry.

 

Richie didn’t speak to Eddie for four days. Four, excruciatingly, long days. Eddie cried for most of it, thinking about what Greta said. Maybe he did like Richie. He knew he was supposed to like girls, but it didn’t matter to him. Girls never appealed to him, but Richie always did. From day one, Eddie was mesmerized by the way his dark hair flopped onto his face and the way his finger would push the large lenses back up his face. He loved the way chocolate chips would stain the corners of his mouth when he hungrily gobbled the cookies down, and the way he rubbed Eddie’s knuckles to thank him for the half peanut butter sandwich he placed in front of him. Most of all, he loved being his friend, and missed him terribly. He told Ben about everything that had happened, and Ben promised him that he didn’t tell, that someone must’ve overheard. He told Eddie to apologize to Richie and tell him how he felt, maybe he would start talking to him again. So Eddie did.

 

On the fifth day of not speaking to Richie, Eddie knocked on the door of his dilapidated house. Although Richie was always at Eddie’s house, Eddie’s had only been to his once, to grab a comic book. He tried his very best to remember where it was, and here he was, scuffing his shoes on the dirty porch. After what seemed like a lifetime of waiting, the lock finally turned and the door squeaked open, revealing a red eyed Richie. “W-what are you doing here, Edward?” Richie sniffled. Eddie flinched. “I wanted to say I’m sorry.” He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. “You’re not. You keep saying that you hate me, and it hurts my feelings!. Every time you tell me you hate me, it reminds me of -” A noise came from behind Richie, and he turned to look behind him, eyes wide. “I- have to go!” The door abruptly slammed in Eddie’s face, and he stood, staring at the wood for a long time. “I’ll talk to you at school, I guess.” He said to no one in particular.

 

Richie wasn’t at school the next day. Eddie cried in his yellow chair, Richie’s delicately drawn doodles already fading from his desk. The teacher asked Eddie where he was. He said he didn’t know. He sat in silence with Ben and Stan at lunch, pushing away his chocolate chip cookies. He wasn’t hungry. His mother squealed when he came home, the pale nature of her son concerning her. “Edward! Why didn’t you tell me you were sick?” Eddie flinched. He forgot that he was just Edward without Richie. Eddie went to sleep that night, his fingers, toes, legs, and arms crossed. “Please let him be there tomorrow.” He prayed to whoever God was up there. To his surprise, Richie was there the following day. He stumbled in late, purple rings under his eyes and bruises on his knuckles. Richie didn’t say anything all class long, just doodled hearts on his desk. It made Eddie’s heart pang. At recess, the boys sat together, not speaking. Eddie rubbed circles onto Richie’s bruised knuckles. “I’m sorry.” He whispered finally, breaking the silence between them. “It’s okay, Eddie Spaghetti Head.” Richie flashed a lopsided grin.

 

“You’ll always be my boyfriend in my mind.” 

 

**fifth grade, why richie closed the door**

 

_ “Who’s at the door, Richard?” Richie quickly shut the door, his fingers shaking. “No one, dad.” Wentworth crossed his arms and approached his son. He knew he was lying. He grabbed his son’s shaky hands and jammed his knuckles into the door repeatedly. “Who was at the door, Richard?” Richie scrambled to find an acceptable lie, he was still sore from last week and didn’t want to suffer another beating. “It was a Jehovah’s Witness, dad! Please stop, you’re hurting me!” His knuckles were being grated into the wood door, the skin scraping off. Wentworth considered his son’s words. “Why didn’t you say that in the first place?” Richie thoughts were all jumbled at this point. “Because I didn’t know the word for it and you said not to speak unless I knew the words I was going to use and I didn’t know the words for a second, I’m sorry!” Luckily, his father looked convinced. “Fine. Clean your hands, if I see even a drop of blood in this house, it’s not going to be pretty.” Richie nodded and raced to his bedroom, which was ironically hilarious, it’s not like he was going to get any sleep that night. _

 

It was never pretty with his father.

 

**chapter two: what’s the word for gay?**

  
  


**seventh grade, 2006**

 

There was a new boy in Eddie’s class. He wore a leather jacket, black boots, and had spiky hair. He looked pretty legit for a seventh grader. Bill, Eddie’s newest friend along with MIke, learned that his name was Jared, and he took quite a liking to Eddie. “Me?” Eddie shrieked, his mouth stuffed with grapes.They were in lunch, the six of them squeezed into a lunch table. Richie, Eddie, Ben, Stan, Mike, and Bill. Eddie had six friends now.  “Say it, don’t spray it, Eds.” Richie retorted next to him, exaggeratedly wiping his arm. “That’s what Greta said.” Mike frowned, turning to look at Bill. “You do realize half the shit that comes out of her mouth is false, right?” Stan’s eyes widened. “Mike!” He scolded him for the profanity. Richie gave him a high five. Eddie smacked Richie’s hand away. “You guys are missing the point! Cute boy with leather jacket likes me!” Richie shook his head, standing up from the table to throw his tray away. “It’s probably his dad’s.” He mumbled, walking away. Eddie watched after him. 

 

He had officially accepted his liking to boys in the 5th grade. He didn’t tell anyone but his group of friends, and to everyone else, he was into girls like normal. Eddie didn’t know what it was called, but he knew he was it. He liked boys. And sometimes, he got the feeling that Richie did too. But then other times, Richie would talk about girls and Eddie would get confused. So he stopped trying to figure it out, and pushed his feelings, or whatever he felt for Richie, aside. Stan looped one of his curls around his finger, observing the interaction between Richie and Eddie. Everyone else had gone back to fooling around, flicking food across the table at each other. But Stan noticed something. He noticed something then, and something every time after that.

 

Richie was dry with him for the rest of the day. But Eddie barely noticed, because after lunch Jared turned around from his desk and spoke to him for the first time since he learned Jared might be into him. “Hey, fag.” Eddie smiled, and waved slightly. “Hey, Jared!” The kid snickered, turning his attention back to the board. Richie narrowed his eyes, glancing at Eddie from his desk next to him, who looked lovestruck beyond words. There was something off about the way Jared spoke to him. He didn’t know what “fag” meant, but it didn’t sound nice. Maybe Greta was lying, because he knew what it was like to like Eddie. Jared didn't sound like he did. But he kept his mouth shut, not wanting to hurt Eddie’s feelings. After Richie debated with himself for what felt like an hour, he decided he would ask his dad what “fag” meant tonight. If he was home of course. 

 

That turned out to be the worst decision Richie had ever made. His father was drunk, and could barely understand him, thinking Richie called him a fag. He obviously didn’t, but that didn’t matter. Richie got the worst beating he’d ever gotten in his entire life. Eddie knew about Richie’s parents, it was like a silent agreement between them, and they never spoke about it. Until the next day when Richie came to school with cracks in his glasses, and his eyes swollen shut. Eddie screamed when he saw him, dropping the books he was holding in his hands, Sonia had just dropped him off in the front, and Richie was leaning against the building, trying to avoid a teacher or another kid seeing him. But Eddie believed he could spot Richie in a crowd of a million people, and the wall on the backside of the school was no exception. He ran over to Richie, tears already streaming down his face. “W-What happened, oh my god, Richie!” Richie could barely hear him. He could barely hear anything but faint ringing that he been there since yesterday. 

 

“My dad.”

 

After arguing with Richie for so long he was late for class, he finally convinced him to go to Eddie’s house and sneak in through the window to hide out in Eddie’s room all day. The entire day Eddie was on edge, his thought drifting back to his best friend in his room. He didn’t understand why Richie’s dad would do that to a kid, much worse his own son. He was pondering the fact in his math class, realizing that meeting Richie had required him to grow up much faster than he should’ve. Not that he minded it, but sometimes he wish him and Richie could act like kids again. As if on cue, Jared turned around for the second day in a row, hitting Eddie with that same smirk. “Hey fag, I was wondering if i could get your number so you could do - uh - help me with the homework tonight?” Eddie smiled, his thoughts about Richie practically flying out the window, and being replaced with the leather jacket in front of him. “Sure, here.” He wrote it down on a piece of paper, handing into Jared, internally squealing when their hands touched. Eddie spent the rest of class, daydreaming about the boy in front of him.

 

Richie never had a chance to tell him what fag meant.

 

He was relieved when Eddie came home from school finally, after hours of waiting for his best friend. He was sprawled across the bed, his hand cradling one of his cheeks. “Guess what?” Eddie asked, skipping into the room, paying no mind to the mess Richie had left. “Hm?” Richie mumbled, his swollen lips aching too much to actually say anything. He could use some ice. “Jared gave me his number!” The small boy shrieked, holding up his phone as if it was some kind of holy grail. “Mm.” Richie nodded his head, and turned his body away from his best friend, trying to hide the tears that welled up in his eyes. He could really use some ice, and he really wanted Eddie to shut the fuck up about the pretty boy wannabe. But he didn’t. He talked about him more as the night went on, Richie laying on his back, staring up at the ceiling, as Eddie sat at his desk, waiting for Jared’s call. “You do realize what fag is, right Eddie?” Richie spoke for the first time in a few hours when the swelling in his lips had subsided. Eddie was tidying up the room from when Richie had messed it up earlier, looking for things to do while he waited for his best friend to come home from school. It was a long morning, and he had almost given himself away when he heard Sonia come home from work, thinking it was Eddie.

 

“No, but it’s a cute nickname. What does it matter what it means?” Eddie said, staring at his phone. Richie abruptly sat up on the bed, a wave of pain coursing through his bones. “Eddie, I got beat for that word! You wonder why my dad beat the shit out of me? It was because of that word! You need to know what it means!” Eddie looked up at Richie, surprised at what he was hearing. “What does it mean, Ri-,” He was cut off by his phone ringing, and the name of the boy who started all this flashed on the screen, with about 30 hearts after it. Eddie looked up sheepishly, and Richie was so angry he could probably have steam coming out of his ears if this was a cartoon. “If you pick up that phone, Eddie, I fucking swear,-” Eddie stood up, throwing his phone on the bed beside Richie. “What’s your problem with him, Richie? Why do you hate him so much? The first boy that actually shows interest in me, you hate. Why?” “Fag is a slur for gay people you idiot!” Richie rose his voice, his words shaking the shelves of Eddie’s room. Eddie took a moment to compose himself, and thank Jesus Christ above it was 4 o’clock, and his mother was at the grocery store.

 

Then the severity of Richie’s words hit him, slapping the wind out of his chest. He opened his mouth to scream back, that he hated Richie, he hated him with every fiber in his being for being friends with him for so long, for liking him for so long, for Richie to shit on his parade when someone finally liked him. But it was a lie. It was all a lie. Jared didn’t like him, Jared was only using him for laughs. He suddenly wondered why he wanted his number, what would’ve happened if he had picked up the phone. All the anger and hatred he felt for Richie, all the sadness, the rejection, every single little feeling he had bottled up inside him since 3rd grade, exploded out of his mouth, like vomit almost, catapulting the words from his lips, all mixed up and jumbled into three words.

 

**“I hate you.”**

 

But he didn’t mean it. He could never recall a time in his life where he actually hated Richie. All he felt for him, was love. But there was no way he could ever reveal his attraction in words. What he felt for Richie made the Gods up above stop what they’re doing and wonder how on Earth the foolish mortals could ever conjure up something so powerful, that they would feel it in the sky. And Richie returned the feeling. But he couldn’t put it into words either. He had been raised in a life full of hate, never shown true love. In 7th grade, Richie and Eddie had defied all odds, lived a thousand lifetimes, and understood the truest form of love, only mere 12 year olds.

 

“No. No, Eds. You don’t.”

 

And with those words, croaked from Richie’s lips, sealed their fate. The boys would be together, for the rest of their lives. At least, that’s how it was supposed to be. 

  
  


**freshman year, 2008**

 

It was about to be their two year anniversary. Well, a year and ten months to be exact. Eddie still remembers the day they got together, a week after Richie’s father had beat him to a pulp. Eddie still can’t think about it without clenching his fists, anger pooling in his stomach. But Richie told him not to fear, that it was in the past and they’re together now. Eddie was truly happy he could finally be with Richie, their remaining middle school years blissful since that painful night when he found out his sexuality was a minority among people. People at Derry High didn’t seem to mind it though, and the boys could freely hold hands and be together without too many weird looks. 

 

Another member had also presented themselves to his group of friends. A girl. A girl with copper red hair, and freckles almost identical to Richie. Her name was Beverly Marsh, and soon after meeting her and seeing the way Ben marveled at her, he realized it was the same girl he was fawning over since kindergarten. When she walked into her first day at Derry High, Eddie was automatically drawn to her friendly face and shiny hair. She warmly greeted him, and they’ve been great friends ever since. It was all over when he introduced her to his other friends, all accepting her into the group with little hesitation, especially because of how easy going she was. Ben was mesmerized by her, and she gravitated towards him without even knowing his feelings.

 

Soon, all their friends had a betting pool for when they would get their head out of their asses and realize their feelings for one another. It was humorously painful watching how dense both of them were. Eddie imagined him and Richie were like that at first, and cut Ben some slack. After all, he was mainly the reason he was in the best relationship of his life, so he made sure to give pointers every now and then. But he mainly wanted them to realize it themselves, not with the help of anyone else. That kind of thing is special, and should only be exclusive to the two people involved. Richie and Eddie learned that the hard way. 

 

They were in the Denbrough basement, cooped up around the longest game of Monopoly Eddie had ever played in his life. Richie was next to him, hogging most of the blanket Eddie had wrapped around himself, holding his hand tightly. Stan was sitting in Bill’s lap, and while this would be a questionable sight if anyone else did it, it was considered the norm for Bill and Stan. Beverly and Ben, being the absolute idiots they were, were sitting five feet apart on the couch, their hands clasped tightly in their own laps. Mike rolled the dice, and moved his piece a few places before he stopped and looked up at everyone else. “I’m bored, we should play something else guys.” Everyone else agreed, while Stan groaned, he was actually getting pretty close to winning that time. “Any suggestions?” Bill quipped, gesturing over to the table stacked with games. “Twister?” Richie smirked, releasing himself from Eddie’s blanket burrito. 

 

“Yeah! I want to spin!” Beverly shrieked and jumped up from the couch, racing Richie over to the game so she could grab the spinner. At the last second, Richie pushed her into the dining room table and snatched the game box, cheering victoriously. “Hell yeah! Suck it, cheeto head!” Bev made a face of mock hurt and put her hands on her hips. “What’d you call me, four - eyes?” Richie threw the box to the side and dove at Beverly, letting out a Tarzan style roar. “Now you’re gonna get it, Marsh!” They tackled each other onto the floor, rolling around playfully and giggling like crazy. “God, you guys are insufferable.” Stan said, walking over his friends and grabbing the game from where it had been thrown on the floor. “Let’s play already. Richie, spin.” Richie released his grip on Beverly and took the spinner from him, as his other friends set up the mat. “You guys are going to die!” Richie teased, menacingly twirling the spinner. “Shut up, asshole. You’ll see, I’m going to win!” Eddie yelled at his boyfriend. The others laughed, and the game began. 

 

Eddie was extremely uncomfortable right now, but he was determined to win, so he stayed put, his right arm tangled between Stanley’s neck and Beverly’s knee. Bill was the only one sitting out, his arms crossed. What a sore loser. Ben wobbled a bit, but kept his balance, knocking into Mike accidentally. “Hey!” Mike yelled. Richie enjoyed the sight of his friends struggling, and spun the spinner extra fast. “Right foot, green!” Beverlyn groaned and moved to slide her foot between Eddie’s leg, but her sock slipped and she fell on her ass, almost making Eddie topple. But he kept his balance, grinning as his friends were eliminated one by one. Finally, it was Ben and Eddie left, both determined to win for different reasons. Ben, to impress Bev, and Eddie to prove Richie wrong.

 

“Left hand, yellow!” Eddie was in a position where this was impossible, and he voiced his fury. “Richie,  **I fucking hate you!** God, this hurts.” Richie was taken aback by his words, and the spinner slipped from his fingertips. “R-richie?” Bill stuttered, confused by the effect that those simple words had on his friend. Eddie realized what he had done. “Shit, Rich, you know I didn’t mean that.” Eddie slid off the mat and came over to Richie, wrapping his arms around him.Eddie was always forgetting the affect those words had on his boyfriend. Richie shook his head and shrugged Eddie’s arms off him. “It’s okay,” he said with shaky breaths. “I need to learn how to not take things so literally.” Eddie glanced up at him, the room silent as all his friends had froze to watch the confrontation. “You sure, babe?” Richie smiled. “Yeah, bug. I’m okay.” Eddie pecked his cheek, and all his friends let out contented breaths of relief.

 

“So, does that mean I won?” Ben said in a strained voice, from trying not to laugh. Eddie threw a pillow at his head.

**chapter three: after everything i’ve done for you**

  
  


**senior year, 2012**

 

“Babe what’s another word for… like, germs?” Richie tapped his pen against his temple. “Bacteria?” Eddie threw his hands up in glee. “Yes! Yes, that’s the word, thank you bubba.” The boys were in Eddie’s room, working on their college applications. They had applied for mostly the same schools, not wanting to separate during college. But Richie had secretly turned in an application for a film school in New York, while all of Eddie’s choices were around or in California. It’s not that Richie wanted to be away from Eddie, because he would rather die before that happened. But the school had sent him a letter saying that they were impressed with his performance in film making, and if he applied they would offer him a free scholarship. He hadn’t told Eddie though, since he knew Eddie had a dream of going to UCLA and Richie probably wouldn’t get in anyway. “Rich, are you nervous for college?” Richie turned away before answering, not wanting his face to give away anything. “No, babe. Because I’m going to be with you.”

 

The losers club had congregated at their favorite restaurant, Denny’s, for the last time before graduating. It seemed like years ago when Eddie and Richie were filling out applications in his room and Richie was worrying about the film school in New York. In reality, it was only a few months prior, and there was an unopened letter from the New York Film Academy sitting on Richie’s desk at home. When he received it, he threw it like it was on fire, not wanting to open the letter. He didn’t want to leave his friends who were all going to school on the west coast, he didn’t want to leave Eddie. So he postponed opening the letter and called his friends up, proposing one last lunch at Denny’s. They all agreed eagerly and met up in ten minutes flat, grabbing their usual table and saying hello to the waiters. Richie tried his very best to ignore the image of the letter on his desk.

 

Bill stood up after they had ordered desert and held up his coffee. “A t-toast.” He announced. “You can’t make a toast with coffee, babe.” Stan giggled. “Well, I c-can try!” Everyone else laughed and stood up, holding their various drinks. “To the losers club, we’ve spent years and years together and I can’t imagine my middle or high school years any other way. Thank you guys, for sticking by me. I love you.” Bev leaned over to Richie, who was hiding his face in his Coke. “He didn’t stutter once.” she whispered, and Richie nodded sadly. He couldn’t believe there was a chance he could actually leave these people. 

 

The rest of dinner was uneventful, mostly full of jokes and bickering about who would pay the check. Richie let his mind wander, thinking about the decision he might have to make. But mostly, he was thinking about his friends. How blessed he was to have them. How each of them had practically molded him into the person he was. When he was in tenth grade, he never could’ve imagined the impact those scrawny losers would’ve had on him.

 

\---

 

_ In sophmore year, Eddie and his six friends decided to be called the “Losers Club.” Which was quite ironic, considering most of them had filled out through the years, and the last thing they would be called would be loser, but they all figured out that at one point in their life, that’s what they were called. _

 

_ All his life, Ben had been called a loser. Fatboy, jiggletits, whale, tubby, Ben had heard it all. But it was loser that really got to him. He could stand being called fat, he didn’t mind it too much. After all, he was fat! But loser meant that he had no friends, and that nobody liked him. That didn’t sit well with Ben. He had no friends until fourth grade, and thought he was destined to be alone for the rest of his life. Then a small boy with curly hair and a fanny pack called him over, and scooted over in his seat to make more room in his fat body. That’s how he knew he had made his first friend. Eddie didn’t care that he was fat, just moved over to make more room for him.  _

 

_ Stan was a loser. He knew he was. He was jewish, was a germ freak, and couldn’t even play in PE because of his OCD. He was going to be lanky and have no friends for the rest of his life. Stan only had his birds, and man, he loved his birds. He used to think, “Maybe, I’ll marry a bird. There always there for me, and they can fly, far, far away. They can take me with them.” But eventually, he made friends. And Stan had a favorite, even though you weren’t supposed to have favorites when it came to your friends. It was Bill. There was something mesmerising about his reddish- brown hair and the fact that he always knew what to do. Stan craved the control in his life, and when he started dating Bill in freshman year, it was perfect. For a little while. Then the insults got worse, people they didn’t even know would yell hurtful things at them, but there was one that always hit Stan the hardest.  _

 

_ “Loser.” _

 

_ Mike was already a minority. He was black. That already put him behind all of the other kids, and if that wasn’t bad enough, he was homeschooled until high school, his parents too afraid to put him in public school. He arrived to Derry High, friendless and clueless until he met Eddie Kaspbrak. When Eddie introduced him to all his other friends, Mike felt like he belonged. He felt like he was in one of those tv high school movies, where everyone ended up happy at the end. He couldn't believe he had gotten that lucky. It seemed as if Eddie was the one that saved everyone from a friendless, lonely life. _

  
  


_ Especially Richie. Richie with his abusive father and horrible jokes to cover his feelings.  _

 

_ Eddie saved him, and yet Richie was going to leave him.  _

 

\--

 

It was simultaneously the worst, and best day of Richie’s life. He had returned home from Denny’s in his beat up truck, feeling more guilty than ever about the letter. All his friends were staying in the same area, and he had the audacity to apply to a school halfway across the damn country? He was being selfish, he decided, as he picked up the letter to hurl it into the trash can. 

But something about the letter caught his attention. Not the envelope, or the name, or even the official looking seal on the right corner. The weight. The letter was significantly heavy, the envelope was practically bulging out from the amount of papers inside. Rejection letters were never this heavy. Richie froze. He didn’t want to open it. His hands were shaking, sweat was dripping down his forehead. The letter tore open quite easily, all it took were some quick snaps of his fingertips. Richie had never felt so conflicted in his life. The words at the top of the page brought a smile to his face but a tugging feeling of dread deep in his stomach.

 

**CONGRATULATIONS, RICHARD TOZIER! You have been accepted into the New York Film Academy with a full ride scholarship!**

 

The bile was rising in his throat before he could stop it, and he hurled into metal trash can next to his desk, throwing the letter behind him so nothing would land on it. 

 

_ I can’t go, I can’t leave Eddie. _

 

_ But I have to. This is my chance for a better life. _

 

Richie glared at the letter like it had killed his family. 

 

It practically had.

 

\--

 

Richie had climbed through Eddie’s window later that day, completely unaware of the fact that it would be his last time doing that. Eddie was sitting on his bed cross legged, a book open in his arms. It didn’t seem like he was actually reading though, because the minute Richie’s feet hit the floor, Eddie threw the book aside and was on him, wrapping his tiny arms around Richie’s waist and pulling their hips together. “Baby…” Eddie whispered, his eyes blown wide with attraction. “I want you so bad.” Richie kissed him roughly, pulling the soft pillow of his boyfriend’s bottom lips into his mouth. He reached up and tugged on Eddie’s curls softly, pulling a moan from deep in his throat. Richie picked him up by the bottom of his thighs and threw him on the bed. They had never had sex yet. There was a line that neither boy had crossed yet, but looking at Eddie’s expression, his throat flushed red and his pupils blown wide, it seemed like today would be as good a day as any to cross it.

 

But he couldn’t. Richie couldn’t do that to Eddie while keeping that secret. As much as he wanted him, his pink hole stretched around his throbbing cock, he couldn’t, knowing he was leaving him. 

 

_ Richie was leaving him. _

 

“Eddie,” Richie breathed into his ear while Eddie pressed kisses down his neck, trailing them to his collarbone. “Hm,” He hummed, clearly not wanting to talk right now. “I got accepted into the New York Film Academy.” Eddie was off him in a instant, plopping down at the end of the bed, the farest point away from Richie. “What?!” Richie caught his breath, rubbing his hand across his neck, thumbing the marks left by Eddie. “I applied and got accepted in the New York Film Academy with a full ride scholarship.” The boy in front of him had a face void of emotion. Richie couldn’t read his eyebrows, or cheekbones, or the creases around his lips like he usually could.

 

“Are you going?”

 

There is was. The question that would seal the deal. The question that would make or break almost six years of love. The movies were lying to you. Richie knew that they wouldn’t be able to maintain a relationship as healthy as the one they had now, 3,000 miles away from each other. He wouldn’t put Eddie through that pain. He couldn’t, and he wouldn’t. He wanted Eddie to be happy, with or without him. And it was with a face full of tears that Richie prayed Eddie could see right through, could see his intentions and the inner struggle, could see the way he was beating himself up over this, that he answered.

 

“Yes.”

 

Eddie broke into a wracked sob, pressing his palms to his eyelids. 

 

_ No, no, no, nonono. This can’t be happening.  _

 

Both boys were crying now, neither moving to console the other. What would you say in a situation like this? Sure, the boys were both aged beyond their years, but none of them knew the answer to this situation. Yourself, or your lover? Who do you choose? Who will reveal the better outcome? What happens next?

 

Eddie didn’t have the patience to find out. 

 

“Get out.”

 

Richie whined horribly, but pushed open the window and climbed down the tree, hoping he would fall the rest of the way and die. Just die on impact with the ground so he didn’t have to feel the pain anymore. As Richie pushed the keys into the ignition of his car, his eyes so blurry and full of tears he was afraid he wouldn’t be able to see the road, he glanced back at the window he had climbed down from one last time. He could hear Eddie’s sobs from above; the window was still open.

 

**“I hate you, I hate you, I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!”**

 

The words were undeniable. Eddie was screaming it from his room, window open, sobs closing up his throat, little thumps echoing through the neighborhood from him probably kicking the walls. The tears wouldn’t stop falling down Richie’s face as he drove away, struggling to resist the urge to slam the car into a tree. 

 

_ He knew Eddie meant it this time.  _

 

_ He knew Eddie truly hated him.  _

 

_ And he had to live with it.  _

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> leave some kind words below  
> xoxo, @onlyreddie

**Author's Note:**

> leave some kind words below!  
> xoxo, @onlyreddie


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